


Burdened By Blessings

by PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess



Category: Marvel, Spiderman - Fandom, X-Men
Genre: Adult!Peter, Affection, Consensual, M/M, NSFW, Pining, Trademark Banter, matchstick of a slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 08:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21407551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess/pseuds/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess
Summary: Gift for Freshsalad. Unexpected tension surfaces after Wolverine is forced to drag Spiderman from the rubble of a downed building. Neither of them handles it well...
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Peter Parker, Peter Parker/James Logan, Spiderclaw, Spiderman/Wolverine
Kudos: 36





	1. Ache

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Freshsalad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freshsalad/gifts).

> Gift for the wonderful one, Freshsalad.

His fingers ached in a way mere words could no longer describe; but still, the man dug deeply into the debris at his feet. Determined and focused on the task at hand; utterly heedless of the ever-present bite of sharp rock that stole flesh with every handful, and the stiffening of the joints in the swelling digits; some damaged from the fight moments before, and trying valiantly to heal even as the man pushed on destroying himself anew.

“C’mon, c’mon… you little bastard, don’t you go ahead and die on me.” he growls to himself, seemingly threatening the unseen hero trapped beneath the rubble of the building site. All that remained of a new highrise, only several floors built, now nothing more than a pile of concrete, metal, and choking clouds of dust. Somewhere beneath it all, his ears could pinpoint the desperate, diminishing wheeze of a dying superhero… and he dug faster.

Tired muscles strained violently as he shoved a metal girder out of the way, and turned back to scrabbling at the remaining pile, as the hollow sound of the object striking ground reverberated through the air like a thunderclap. He ground his teeth against the sudden pain of such a violent sound striking his sensitive ears, feeling it lance around his head like a flash-flood, and finally subside without warning.

Ragged, quiet pleas were growing fainter by each agonising second… and he wouldn’t let the little brat expire so easily. Not while he could still stand and shovel, that is.   
So close… so close now… the rasping of breath was just on the other side of a large sheet of sheetrock…

“_H-hey… there… dogbreath… h-h-how’ya d-do-doing?_” gasps the rather battered Spiderman, blinking furiously at the sudden flare of sunlight into what he’d been slowly accepting as his tomb, as his vision filled with the infamous silhouette of Wolverine. 

The sheetrock smashed against the ground somewhere to their left as Logan dropped to his knees, eye already taking in the damage and dragging every inch of bedside manner in him to the forefront. “There ya are, Spidey… was wondering here you got to. Look a right mess, brat, but ain’t nothing someone at the mansion can’t fix up, right as rain.”

A hollow fear was growing on Peter’s face, eyes only just visible through the tattered costume and swollen purple lids. “Oh god, you’re being _nice_ so I have to be _dying_…” he rasps, and the faint gurgle echoing the words sends a horrifying chill up Wolverine’s spine.

He stifles the urge to slap the hysteria right out of the other. Not that it’d make much difference to the pile of battered brat before him… Spiderman had seen better days. And had, y’know, been able to see them… the acrobatic arachnid was squinting painfully at his through angry black eyes. Made Wolverine wince just to look at it.

Some part of him wanted to pick the younger hero up and run back to help, but given the state of the other… that’d be a real bad idea.   
Instead, he settled for sitting beside the panicked twenty-something and placing a hovering hand over the spidey-shoulder, in a silent show of support… as he telepathically called for Professor X to get a med team over here _right. the fuck. NOW._

_‘And hurry.’_ he added, succinctly. ‘_Dunno if he’s gonna make it if ya don’t.’ _


	2. Burn

As cliche as it sounded… the first thing Peter noticed upon coming round was the periodic beeping by his left ear, and the blinding white walls, sheets and general atmosphere of what had to be some sort of medical facility. Well, not like he’d never woken up in one before…

His head pounded, but at least he’d come to associate the feeling with meaning he was still alive and kicking. A sudden movement in the leg region sent a jet of fire up his body and Peter winces; making a mental recalculation. Well, alive and _laying down really quietly so that doesn’t happen again_, at any rate.

The curtains part as Dr Jean Grey appears, already carrying a glass of water with a stripey spiderman-brand straw in it; he would make a joke about how she’d ‘read his mind’ if his mouth didn’t feel like an entire desert had taken up residence in it during the impromptu nap. Last thing Peter can coherently remember was being carefully levitated from the rubble and placed on a stretcher; some choppy flashes of the x-jet, and panicked faces, and then… here.

“I understand this probably feels a little strange, even with your… shall we say, _experience_, in the matter. But rest assured that you are safe here in the X-Mansion, and I wouldn’t advise trying to get up for at least another few hours.” she says, as Peter sips gratefully at the delightfully cool liquid. “We have done everything we can, for now, but it still took several days for you to wake… there were concerns you might not. After all, Magneto _did_ drop an _actual building_ on you; not even Logan can walk away from that sort of punishment without at least a limp.”

Speaking of the gruff, snarky, short-tempered bastard of a mutant…

Jean doesn’t even bother to look around. “Oh, James has been by your bedside since we rescued you. Won’t admit to caring if you made it, no matter what you do… but I know even he was worried when he dug you out from under the rubble. Took three of us to wrestle him away long enough to deal with his own injuries… nasty infection in the hands from all that dust. The city really needs to look into the shoddy bilding materials being used in this city.” She lets out a long sigh, containing in the sound the utter love and frustration she held for her fellow mutants on the team. “Nevermind… can you think hard about how you’re feeling while I run some tests?”

For at least the next half hour, though it felt like an eternity, Peter was poked and prodded; had his heart listened to, and was tormented into wiggling various appendages to show they were all working the right way. Finally… he was allowed a moment’s peace as Dr Grey went off to do… whatever it was telepathic doctors did when not forcing very stiff and achey Spidermen to bend their body in directions it had decided against.

Wolverine peered at him from the corner of an eye, determining they were alone, and sitting up with a languid stretch. He’d been hunched in a godawful plastic chair to the side of Peter’s bed, apparently asleep the whole time the doctor had been there… but cleary listening in. 

“...time for the spongebath… nurse?” Peter quips, breathlessly, his throat oddly sore and raspy. Oh god, had they needed to intubate him? How far gone had he been? His heart sped up at the idea that Aunt May could have had to _bury_ him… leaving her alone in this big, wide world…

“Ain’t ya nurse. Just came to check ya didn’t die. Didn’t want all that digging ta be for nothing.” Wolverine snarls back, expression distant and cold; fixed in place, almost like a mask. It left an uncomfortable silence that neither of them knew how to fill. The man turned away, heading for the door, when a quiet voice called him back.

“H-hey… I can’t… remember much… but I know you… got me out… thanks…” Peter manages, and curls into a pained cough. “Ow…”

Wolverine huffs. “Nothin’ to it, just don’t like watching you young ones die before ya time. Had a chance ta do something about it.” He mumbles ith feigned nonchalance, the explanation feeling both, technically correct… and utterly false, at the same time. Lucky the little bugger couldn’t hear his thundering heartbeat.

“O-oh…” Peter seemed to deflate a little, before the mask of snark slid into place. A tired, shiteating grin slapped on his face, the arachnid acrobat asks, “W-well… if that’s the… case… any chance you c-could… rescue me… from another… problem?” 

Wolverine takes in the furtive glances being thrown towards the bedpan, and sighs.    
“Alright… but we ain’t ever talking about this ever again.”   
  
“D-Deal.” 


	3. Ignite

The temperature of the room dropped several degrees as Wolverine rounded the corner to find an empty room. His eyes darted around with a predator’s instincts, noting the lack of _Get Well Soon!_ cards on the bedside table, the discarded scrubs, and the firmly shut window at the end of the infirmary ward. 

“Where. is. the. Brat?” he growls at a nearby medical intern. Naturally, the mutant panics at the sudden eplosion of negative attention aiming their way, blurs into rapid nonexistence and escapes, with their unseen footfalls easily heard disappearing from the ward and down the hall outside. 

“Discharged.” Jean supplies, tone calm in the face of his rising sea of emotions. None of which the man even considered addressing, so she decided to let them slide… or, maybe not. Logan always did need a little nudge when it came to the human side of things. “He was doing well, moving under his own power and the majority of bruising had healed… so he was sent home to a relative who could keep an eye on him.” She fixed him a pointed stare. “Don’t you dare go disturbing his recuperation, Logan!”

He was gone before the last syllable died away, and therefore missed the sly grin that infested her features. Ah, you never needed to be a telepath around someone who practically oozed their repressed emotions…

~)0(~

_Who in the hell did he think he was?_ Little brat, _after all they’d done_ to keep him alive… just _run off_ with the nearest kin to god knows what little household to _die_…

Of course the thoughts were utterly irrational, Wolverine acknowledged as he climbed up the sheer side of the brick apartment building; but godammnit, how the hell would he be able to be sure the acrobat was still alright if he couldn’t keep an eye on the brat? Ungrateful idiot of a man. 

Peter, for his part, nearly fell off his computer chair backwards when the muscular ball of Wolverine combat rolled through his open bedroom window. The arachnid then crawling off the floor in slow, painful movements that became increasingly hard to watch… until Logan bent down with a sigh, and picked him up in the same manner one might lift a rather reluctant, lanky cat. 

“Where did you-...? Why are you-...? _Oh my god, why are you in my room?”_ Peter splutters, eyes wide as he yanks his pants back into place with as much dignity as a man being carried like a naughty kitten could; aware that he was being set down on the floor with surprising compassion. “_Uhhhh….?_” What the hell did you say when a dude with knives IN HIS HANDS comes rolling through your window in the middle of the afternoon.

No sooner had his feet touched the floor, than Wolverine shoved him right off them again; hands bunched in the arachnid acrobat’s shirt collar and slamming him against the wall just hard enough to make a point, but not enough to bruise. “What in the seven hells are you doing here right now? Why wait until I was away on a mission to sneak off, injured and barely breathing, huh?” comes the confusing accusation.

“Uh, _for one_… Jean said I could come home to Aunt May’s, because I didn’t need a lot of care anymore… and two, how is that any of your damn business?” Peter’s countenance grew red in anger as he leaned forwards in the restrictive grasp, making sure the other has to look him dead in the eyes. There was a fraction of a heartbeat, and they both deflated a little. “And uh… can you put me down now, please? Before I have to call Aunt May in here with The Frying Pan of Doom?” 

He slid to the floor again with little resistance, not really sure exactly what the hell was happening. The arachnid acrobat subtly bats at his chest, trying to tell his heart to knock-it-the-fuck-off… and readjusted his shirt to cover the other issue a little more discretely. 

Wolverine looks like he’s pissed, but also kind of… lost.   
Like he didn’t know exactly what to do next, now that the impulsive initial idea had plain failed…

Peter takes two steps to the left and flops onto his bed with a loud huff. “Sit down, dog-breath, before you embarrass yourself again.” 

There’s a long pause like the other would prefer to hurl himself out the window instead… and then something amazing happens. Wolverine shuffles over and flops down beside Peter, yanking his cowl up to free his puzzled, intense expression.

“I don’t know.” is all he says. “Why I came here, I mean. I just… don’t know. Wanted to check you were safe, I ‘spose.”

“When was the last time you even had a nap, man? Sometimes we do weird things when we’re tired and all… I mean, not that I _totally_ don’t enjoy you coming to give me the spongebath of a lifetime, but like… you don’t look great.” Peter says frankly, and then nudges the other until he flopped back onto the bed. With several agonised sounding wheezes of stiff muscles, the currently-out-of-action-acrobat joined him. “Naptime in this puppy preschool, Logan. We’ll talk when you’re back to human and rubbing those two braincells of yours together to spark a few vaguely normal ideas.”

Peter wanted to make a snappy pun, something about missions or animals maybe… but a soft, deep snore interrupts the thought, and he grins broadly. Oh gods, Logan snores! And it’s so… _oh no_, it’s so _cute_. 

Well, ‘least the guy was taking a quick chill-pill nap, which should definitely help matters. Coming off mission can mean your brain’s operating on 0.01% power and the first thought that comes to mind should NOT be acted on. (Having worked with Tony Stark when the man was tired, dizzy mind spinning with low-blood sugar 'ideas', and complete access to a well-stocked lab… had taught Peter well enough). 

But why on earth did the guy have to come in through the window at that exact moment? That could have been embarrassing. At least Logan hadn’t even bothered to glance at the screen before yelling at Peter… or things could have gotten weird; he really needed to hide that folder a bit better. Barely minimised the candid photos before falling off the chair, after all. 

Ah, bugger it… might as well lay here for a bit. Conserve energy… he told himself, feeling the warmth radiating lazily from Wolverine’s sleeping form lulling him to sleep.

Mmm… things would make sense when they woke up…


	4. Scorch

“You BASTARD!” Peter yelled, slinging a chair across the room masterfully with his web; it crashed against the wall a few inches from Logan’s head as the other remained impassive under the tirade. The arachnid acrobat cast his eyes around frantically for something else to use as an impromptu weapon, and came up empty.

His heart hurt; like, it fucking ached in a way that he couldn't explain. What breath he coud get thundered from his throat as still-healing muscles shook from the overexertion of having scoured the whole. fucking. city. to find this absolute bastard. He needed to… he needed to… _oh fuck_. The room was moving, blurring at the edges and pounding alongside his pulse… 

Peter staggered forwards a step and collapsed into the suddenly-awaiting arms; tumbling into the darkness of his mind, as his mortal form sunk bonelessly into Logan’s grasp. He didn’t see the pain in those sharp eyes, or hear the soft sigh of disappointment… aimed only at the man who issued it; frustrated at the whole situation, and his own cowardice. 

Logan carefully swung the Spider into his arms and threaded his way through the apartment. Things never got dull when you wore tights, huh?

~)0(~

He doesn’t turn around as the confused, pyjama-clad acrobat stumbles out of the only bedroom a few hours later; just offers a glass of fruit juice and points at a rather plush looking armchair by the television. The other didn’t even seem coherent yet, so it might do well to raise the impulsive idiot’s blood-sugar levels before they started to argue again.

No more dramatic swooning in this apartment; one more episode and Logan would believe their fate was being written by Jane Austen. Well, at least she was a pretty good author… unlike some.  He blinks out of that odd little detour of his train of thought to focus on the Situation at Armchair. “How’re ya feeling, you flippy little shit?” he grins, watching the acrobat chug the entire glass whilst considering an answer.

Eventually, a very cordial “Fuck you.” is returned, and they both grin stupidly. Things felt far easier than before, everything was… well, maybe ‘settling into place’ was the best way to describe things. Or so he thought.

Glass settled carefully on the nearby coffee table, Peter absolutely glares at the other. “Dude, what the actual hell was that about? One minute you’re yelling at me for being allowed out of that insanely-boring white-washed ward, and the next you’re passed out on my bed exhausted and we’re bonding as snore buddies… and then I wake up to find you’re gone? And you just… fucking… disappear on me for like a week?” 

Logan opens his mouth to respond, but can’t get a syllable out before the other throws up a halting hand. “No, I don’t want to fucking hear it.” Peter rises and begins to stride across the room so he can jab an angry finger into Wolverine’s chest with every. single. statement. So he can make his point properly felt.

“What. the FUCK. Logan?” The expression facing him was pain, and fury, and confusion, and _hurt_. His chest heaved as the finger went jab. jab. jab. “Was it a GAME? Did you lose a bet? Why in the hell would you toy with my heart like that you bastard, don’t you know how fucking long I’ve had a crush on you-...” Peter’s voice snaps off in a shocked little sob, and he almost visibly deflates, horrified.    
  
Seeing the other devolve into panic spurs something into action, and the next either of them know Logan is taking Peter into his arms and kissing the idiot so deeply it felt like the acrobat had melted in his arms. A heartbeat. Two. Then someone kisses back, building in intensity as arms throw themselves about Logan’s neck. Holding them close.

When they finally pull apart, flushed, trailing spittle from their lips and panting… it feels like the world has paused around them.

“That answer your question, brat?”    
  



	5. Deep Heat

Sharp nails ran down his back as the other tried to ground himself from the overwhelming sensation, and James chuckled; eyes soft as he surveyed the flushed countenance inches from his own. His body was still, perched atop Peter’s lap and impaled on the surprising length of the arachnid acrobat’s shaft; well-lubed and twitching against his prostate in an utterly unfair manner. 

He had been so slow, passionate and methodical as he’d opened himself before the lust-addled other’s eyes; slowly pumping that unexpected -_though not unwelcome_\- length as Peter’s toes curled from delight at the attention. Logan showered him in kisses, nips, little licks with a cat-like tongue, and hands that ran over flesh mapping out the places that got a shiver… grounding them, and overwhelming them, in little cycles. Making this memorable, for a myriad of reasons. 

They curled into his armchair, the most comfortable place for Peter to rest his aching muscles, and Logan had looked deep into the other’s eyes as he’d taken the tip. Exclaiming loudly at the sensation, his own senses clouding with Want… wanting to take the other to the hilt and ride him until they both screamed. But… this time, slow, gentle, careful. 

A rock of his hips had sunk the length in further, and Peter had moaned, panting slightly as Logan rode him shallowly; taking just beyond the tip for a long moment, drawing out the sensatons so he could watch the slightly-shocked, awed expression on the arachnid acrobat’s face. Clearly, this was far better than any fantasy the brat had come up with in the middle of the night… nothing was quite like another wrapped around your cock; in any capacity.

Peter’s hands had gripped his hips, wanting to be involved and yet allowing Logan full reign to continue however he wished. 

The mutant gradually engulfed Peter’s peter inch by inch, rocking his hips rhythmically and clenching at the shaft with each movement. He groaned as it sunk in deep, the hot pulsing cock filling him in a way that furtive battlefield encounters of his past never did… it was the _who_, the _where_, then _when_ and the _way_ Peter looked at him like something precious he could never find the right words to describe. He’d sworn as he felt Peter jerk slightly, balls slapping against Logan’s ass as he finally took the length to its base.

They curled around one another for a long moment, just breathing and allowing their hands to roam free. James took Peter’s beautiful face in his hands and ran a thumb across the man’s cheek as he bent in to press their lips together. The kiss deepening from brief touch of lips to sharp teeth and frantic gasps as they parted for mere fractions of a second; Logan felt the other’s body reacting on instinct, and rocking against him. 

Heh. The other reason he’d chosen the position was that it gave him a little more control of the situation; James rocked back, feeling the lengthy cock grinding minutely within, in a pleasant manner. He pulled Peter to him; wrapping broad arms about the acrobat as he shifted position, kissing him deeply once more as he began to ride the other. Swallowing the startled moans Peter emitted, body shuddering at the pleasurable assault of the new sensation. 

The deep, sucking heat that clenched at his shaft on every ever-deepening thrust seemed to be blowing Peter's mind. James rose slightly higher on the shaft with every thrust, and slammed back down, feeling deliciously breathless with every roll of his hips. Startling them both at the intensity of the situation…

Just having the beautiful, passionate, impulsive idiot of an acrobat in his arms was enough to fill his body with a pleasant buzz; there had been a split-second after they first kissed, when he’d felt the outline of Peter’s arousal through his pants, and a morbid part of his mind had Logan wondering if pusing any further might lead to an awkward tombstone epitaph. Although how he could have ever denied the thick, almost palpable arousal that flooded the air, twining around the pair unbearably… utterly unable to be denied. 

He’d asked, and led, and teased, and taught. 

And oh... _i_ _t had been worth it_. James found himself thinking, head tilted back as the rolling sensation of that long, hot cock slamming his prostate with every stroke began to fray at his well-honed restraint. His own neglected member hard, weeping and dejected where it bounced between them; ignored in favour of James finding never ways to blow Peter’s mind. A grind here, the rasp of teeth over a patch of flesh there... and the other man was but putty in his hands.

The sweaty slick of their skin, and the heavy slapping of one body thrusting down as the other tried to match it by rising upward, filled the air lewdly. Pants, moans, muttered half-sentences broke the monotony of the pre-orgasmic orchestra…

James could feel the kid getting close; heh, he’d lasted longer than most on their first time. The balls slapping at his ass growing as tight as the hands wrapped about his hips; almost bruising in their force… deep within, the cock twitched in warning.  He curled around the other, so his hot breath filled Peter’s ear as he shifted the pace to something deep, clenching and rapid. Trying to drain those tight, heavy balls in the best possible way. 

James buried a hand in Peter’s hair and whispered hotly in a bright-pink ear, “Come for me Peter… fill me with your webbing… let me feel how much you want me…”

The other almost choked with the sudden intensity of his orgasm; cock pulsing frantically in time with Peter’s desperate thrusts. He moaned James’s name in a hallowed, half-scream… whole body shuddering with the mindblowing pleasure as thick, hot spurts of come filled Logan from the inside out; the mess slicking his still-thrusting shaft and dripping obscenely between them. He gasped, unable to form words as Logan milked him through the climax with care and attention to detail. 

His own desperate erection in hand, James rocked frantically against Peter’s pulsing shaft; his own climax approaching as he watched the man he… well, the man he _loved_, come apart. That beautiful, blissed expression went straight to his cock, and it jumped desperately in his hand as he rode hard; urging him to get put away wet. James swore under his breath as an errant thrust up caught him off-guard with a little zing of pleasure; and he was surprised when another hand forced his own off the needy cock bobbing between their bodies. 

Peter wasn’t even really thinking, his eyes were blissful, but his hand pumped desperately at James’ cock like he’d been born to; and Logan lost himself in the dual sensation of impaling himself on the pulsing cock, and fucking up into the firm, slick grasp of his lover’s hand. Any tenuous control or restraint he’d had snapped in that moment; and James felt his hips frantically snapping between the two different, equally pleasurable sensations until someone whispered, “_Come for me, James… please..._”

He’s not entirely sure what happened after that second, because Logan was pretty sure he came so hard his brain shut down for a good minute as his cock covered them both in spurts of hot, thick come. Ass clenching desperately around the impaling shaft as they ground together; as if trying to wring the last drop of pleasure from one another…

Whatever occurred, they both seem to return to themselves whilst wrapped around one another; holding close in the face of their respective world-shattering orgasms, the safety in being vulnerable around the other… and the love harboured between the two men. James captured Peter’s lips in a sweet, deep kiss that conveyed all the flowery, emotional words he never knew how to say… and Peter kissed them right back.

"Idiot." He grins, tiredly into the scant space between their faces.

"Love you too." comes the equally delighted response.

**Author's Note:**

> It was a tad short, but I wrote it in a hurry late at night in hopes of surprising her.


End file.
